copyright by calibeachgirl and jim crowell
all rights reserved, 2011
*
Elliot was nervous; his hands shook enough his forkful of food slipped back onto the plate. He set it down. Things were not going well for the FBI agent.
Sophia looked at him, a wry smile on her face. "Something wrong, dear?" she asked. "You seem a little... pre-occupied." She toyed with her husband... a cat playing with a mouse.
"Uh... no... well, yes," he said. "I'm sorry that I asked you to go with Angie that evening. It was the biggest mistake possible." Just thinking of it made him shudder.
"You've already said that, dear. Why is it still bothering you?" 'Yes, indeed, dear husband, what's on your mind?' she thought to herself.
"You said on the phone..." 'Something truly scary,' he knew.
"Yes?" 'Yes, tell me, dear Elliot, what's on your mind.'
"You said that Angie wanted to do something." He took a sip of water. His mouth had suddenly become SO dry.
"Is that the only reason we're going to dinner? Doesn't seem so romantic, when you look at it, that way..." She put down her own fork, still laden with halibut. The tartar sauce dripped away like her enthusiasm for the evening.
"No, no, no... it's not like that. I just didn't want you to feel... neglected, that's all." 'Was it always this hot?'
"That's all? Thanks a lot, Elliot." She folded her napkin and slowly set it on the table. "I'd like to go home, now."
"But..."
"But, what?" She started to get up.
"Please, please, let's stay. I'll make it up to you. I'm sorry... Jesus, it's just this case has really got me worked up for a lot of different reasons, that's all."
Still not mollified, nevertheless, she still sat back down. She knew how important the case was to him.
"Sophia, not only is this case important for the country, but for us, as well. We'd get to stay here, permanently. You know that."
She stared at him, still angry... at both him as well as herself. That evening had frightened her; how easily she had fallen into a single-woman's frame of mind. How easily she enjoyed that man's attention. She tried to remember his name but couldn't... 'did it really matter?' she wondered.
"Sophia, what can I do to make this up to you?"
The magic words every woman wants to hear tumbled from his mouth before he even understood the import of what he said.
**********
Angie opened the post office box and took out the flimsy blue air-mail letter from Italy. The colorful Vatican City stamps would have gladdened any collector but she was more interested in what was inside the letter. Why her handlers didn't use regular US mail was beyond her. They could have mailed it from the Washington area if they actually thought about what they were doing. Overseas mail was always going to stand out, no matter where it came from and the beautiful stamps were going to attract attention from everyone who saw them.
"If Ivan is becoming such a hindrance, eliminate him," the letter said later as she decoded the message. "We expect a plan to be put into effect on the American holiday of Halloween for the greatest impact. Make it work."
She shuddered. As annoyed as she was with Al for his bungling trip to Las Vegas, she had no desire to kill him. If nothing else, he was an acceptable lover. He filled her insatiable need when she was too tired to go bar-hopping looking for someone more interesting.
Besides, from what she understood, there had been enough death in and around the apartment house already. Another mysterious killing or disappearance would bring too much attention from the local police.
'Maybe,' she wondered, 'I could say he went back East for something?'
She was beginning to have second doubts and third thoughts about her role in America. If she could find a way to stay and disappear, she wondered, could she forget about Russia and become a 'good' American? Would Al, or Ivan as she continued to think about him every time he made a huge error in judgment, go along or would he hinder whatever plan she could come up with? Would she have to kill him in the end, after all?
Restlessly, Angie waited for the small safety-deposit box to be unlocked. Finally, both keys were turned and the little door swung open. "Would you like some help with that," asked the teller.
"No, I've got it, thanks," Angie said, pulling the long, slim metal box out.
"All right, then, just let me know when you're ready and I'll be back."
Angie took the box into the small, adjoining room and closed the door. Quietly placing it down on the wooden shelf, she unlocked the small padlock and lifted the lid.
Passport after passport after passport... each carefully taken and checked.... American dollars... Canadian dollars... British pounds... French francs... cut diamonds and emeralds in little cotton bags...
A plan began to form in her devious little mind... a plan to stay in America, in warm Southern California far away from the snows of Moscow and Mother Russia.
'First, though, a few hundred to take care of some shopping...' There were some beautiful high heels and a dress she had seen in Beverly Hills, just in time for Cindy's wedding.
Watching Greg work around the apartment house and then running to the beach every few days or so had explained Cindy's reluctance to go bar-hopping with her. If she had Greg waiting at home for her, she wouldn't be out looking for a quick pick-up, either.
Angie pushed the coffee cup across the table. "You have to go... don't you understand? If you stay here, they're going to kill you. I've shown you the letter, what more can I do? I can get you ten thousand and you can move to another town, another state. They'll never find you, this is a huge country and they don't have all the records and controls like... like home."
He wasn't happy. He liked Southern California, even if he always had a scowl on his face. Admittedly, his huge error in Las Vegas had precipitated the situation further than he ever thought possible, but still...
"If you take a bus, there's no record and you're not wasting money on a car or you can get a used car for cheap. Please, Ivan, listen to me. I know I've been giving you a lot of grief but this is why."
Three days later, taking his false documents with him, he bought a three-hundred dollar car from a used-car lot in San Pedro and headed north toward San Francisco. Somewhere, he hoped, there would be a small town he could settle in with the American dream. The workers' paradise would have to happen without him.
**********
Elliot knelt on the rug, his wife's legs hanging over his shoulders as he kissed her once again. Sophia crossed her ankles, pulling his head forward between her thighs. He tried breathing through his nose as his face pressed against her but was forced to just open his mouth and take a big gulp of air before she could force his head down, again.
Her moans filled the bedroom as her hands grabbed his hair. Sophia's thighs squeezed against his ears and all he could hear was the rapid thump-thump of her heart as she shook once more.
"Stop... stop... stop..." she finally said, releasing his head from her grip. Her arms came back and collapsed onto the bed. He got up and moved onto the bed next to her. Her nipples were still solidly erect and he touched her left breast with his fingertip.
